


Among the Stars

by alekszova



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Camping, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Soft Gavin Reed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 04:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16825267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alekszova/pseuds/alekszova
Summary: Connor convinces Gavin to go on a camping trip.





	Among the Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [same_side](https://archiveofourown.org/users/same_side/gifts).



> “Humans, on the whole, Feo could take or leave; there was only one person she loved properly, with the sort of fierce pride that gets people into trouble, or prison, or history books.”  
> The Wolf Wilder - Katherine Rundell

_October 19 th_

9:19 P.M.

They wait for each other. It’s a common occurrence. More common than it used to be—when they kept each other secret from everyone else. Or, perhaps not _secret._ They just didn’t say anything. Nobody else _needed_ to know, did they?

They didn’t say a word. They belonged only to each other.

But then they fought, and they’ve waited for each other nearly every night since. Because who cares if anyone knows? Who cares about pretending to be coy or uncaring when they _do_ care? They care more than either of them thought they would—or _could._

They usually leave work at the same time. Gavin gives up, staying late only sometimes before he’s ready to leave for home. Connor is different. He gets through his paper work quickly, moves on to dissecting crime scenes or looking through past files to try and understand things a little bit clearer.

Gavin thinks sometimes he might be double checking to see if they have the right killer.

And maybe Connor is.

He doesn’t really know.

Tonight, Gavin is done before Connor is, by a just a few minutes. He waits in the chair opposite of his desk, his phone in his hands as he types across the keyboard to compose a message to Tina or perhaps playing some silly puzzle game he’s never been quite good at.

He isn’t distracting. He is quiet when he waits.

But he is distracting. Because it’s Gavin. Because Connor adores him and he can’t stop looking over at the face he makes when he can’t figure out a part in the game and it’s amusing to watch him sit with that confused look for the thirty seconds before he either closes it out or asks Connor to solve it for him.

“Hey,” Connor says softly, looking from the screen as the computer shuts down towards Gavin. “Ready to go home?”

Gavin looks up and smiles, which he never would have done before. Never. Not like that.

Tina once told Connor that he was changing Gavin. That he was making him nicer, kinder. Better. Maybe not a _nice person_ , maybe not a _kind person._

But better.

The smile that Gavin gives him is gentle and kind and not the kind of smirk he would get after tossing out insults or the sarcastic laugh he used to have.

Different.

 _Better_.

9:32 P.M.

“You think she’ll be okay?” Gavin asks, watching the cat skeptically as she traverses the back of the couch towards Connor. Gavin doesn’t get it. He loves Connor, but he’s not soft and malleable like a human. He thinks Connor is comfortable, he knows that from too many nights curled up as close as he can possibly manage, but surely a human would be more preferable of a place to lay than an android.

“We won’t even be gone two nights,” Connor answers. Latte makes a tentative jump down to Connor’s chest, circling slowly before curling up. “And Tina said she’d come by and check on her.”

“Tina loves Latte. She’d do that even if we were gone for only an hour.”

“So would you.”

Well, of course. The only thing after Connor that he would chase after and never let go is Latte. She’s his best friend, right along with Tina. _Thick as thieves,_ Connor said once. Gavin asked him if he knew what it meant. He didn’t.

Somehow that made it that much nicer.

“I’m going to go make popcorn,” he says, nudging Connor’s legs off his lap. “You want anything?”

“You’re very funny.”

“I’m being serious. No soda? No candy?”

“If you insist, I would appreciate a kiss.”

“Oh?” Gavin says, and he steps back over to him, leaves one against his forehead. “That good enough?”

“It’ll do for now.”

10:40 P.M.

“I don’t want to pack—”

“I’m aware. You don’t even want to go.”

“—I just want—Hey, that’s not true,” Gavin says, pulling Connor away from the closet. “I do want to go. But just barely.”

“Just barely? That makes it any better?” he says. He watches Gavin smile, that stupid one that gets when he’s proud of himself for being an absolute mischievous prick. “I’ll pack for you. Go to bed.”

“It’s not even eleven.”

“And we’re leaving at nine in the morning,” Connor replies. “And you barely slept last night. You need your rest.”

“But then I can’t complain about you packing my least favorite pair of jeans.”

“I promise I won’t pack your least favorite pair of jeans,” Connor says, and he leans forward to punctuate his words with kisses against Gavin’s forehead, against his nose, against his cheeks and a last one against his lips. “If you go to sleep now.”

“Do that again.”

Connor smiles, gives a small laugh, but he complies. Forehead. Nose. Cheeks. Lips. Gavin catches him on the last one, draws it out longer. He thought in the beginning of their relationship that Gavin wasn’t affectionate. That when he did kiss Connor, it was because he was trying to satisfy any tiny bit of sexual desire or urge that he had.

But now?

It’s different. He knows it is when Gavin kisses him like this. It’s because he wants _Connor_ , not because he wants _sex_.

He pulls back, breaks the kiss, presses a hand against Gavin’s chest, “Go to bed.”

“Okay, okay,” he says, and he backs away but he is wearing that smile that would make Connor’s heart melt if he had one. “I’m going.”

11:56 P.M.

It takes him little over an hour to finish packing. Supplies and clothes and food and everything that he knows they will need. The best part of being an android is the checklist he can make in his head. Nothing will be forgotten, unless Gavin never told him to pack it in the first place.

Connor curls up on the couch, watches Latte walk across the wooden floorboards in a slow prowl towards the kitchen in hunt for food. He spends too much time thinking of Gavin. Replaying his smiles today again and again. Replaying that bark of a laugh. Replaying that split second that he looked at Connor and didn’t try and shift his expression to something else.

 _Love._ This human loves him. This supposed android hater. This ridiculous human being.

He might not have said it, but Connor knows it’s the truth. He isn’t an idiot.

He stands up quickly, stepping around the bags and towards the bedroom, driven by the sudden need to be beside him. He sinks down onto the mattress beside him, curls up close behind Gavin, rests his arm around his waist. He leaves one kiss on the back of his head before closing his eyes.

Gavin isn’t asleep.

Connor knows that before he even turns around to face him.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” he returns. “You should be sleeping.”

“I know.”

“Why aren’t you, then?”

“I just…” Gavin trails off, and his eyes are somewhere else. Stuck on Connor’s shoulder, different from the look he gets when he wants to kiss his neck. Just somewhere to look at instead of Connor’s face. “I want you to know that I do want to go tomorrow. That I was just joking.”

“Okay.”

“I didn’t mean to… hurt your feelings or anything.”

“Gavin?”

“I know you’ve been looking forward to this—”

“Gavin.”

“What?”

“It’s okay. I promise,” he says, and he kisses the top of his head as if to prove this matter. “If I really thought you didn’t want to go I wouldn’t have packed your bags.”

“Would you have even asked?”

Connor considers this—why bother asking if he knows the answer? There’s no point. He knows Gavin well. He knows how Gavin reacted towards him saying the idea of going as a joke. If he had been clear about his hate towards camping—

There wouldn’t be a reason. No need to waste time on an answer he already knows. But there also isn’t really a reason for why an android can fall in love or have emotions to begin with.

“I would have,” he decides. “To make sure you knew I wanted you to go. That I care.”

“Oh?” Gavin says, and he’s smiling that stupid smile. “You care about me?”

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Connor whispers.

“Make m—”

He does. Before Gavin can even finish the sentence. He’s like a child sometimes. _Make me. Try and stop me. I know you are, but what am I?_

An amazingly atrocious human being.

_October 20 th_

8:26 A.M.

Some mornings, Connor is an absolute expert at getting out of the bed without waking Gavin. Other mornings, it’s different. When they’re too close together, when the room is too cold and Connor’s warmth is too enticing, when his dreams aren’t nice enough to pull away from the want to be in reality.

He wakes first to the feeling of Connor’s arm leaving his back where it had been resting last night, making small shapes against his skin. It used to be distracting—having Connor’s hand against his spine, making him think of _other_ things. But now it’s comforting. Circles and circles again and again.

“Don’t go,” he mumbles, reaching out to him. “I need you.”

“You don’t need me, go back to sleep.”

He’s too tired to argue about it, even playfully so. His eyes slip back closed, he feels Connor kiss him on the top of the head again. It’s something Gavin loves about him. The delicacy that he uses, the way he has forced his sharp edges to be flattened down again. Sometimes these little kisses are worth a thousand times more than anything else.

8:42 A.M.

He rolls out of bed not even a full twenty minutes later. He feels like a zombie, his eyes barely open, swaying a little bit back and forth on his blind trip towards the bathroom, pushing the door open slowly. The tile is cold underneath his feet and he sucks in a breath, turning the light on, shielding his eyes from the bright light.

Shower first.

Coffee second.

Connor third.

8:59 A.M.

“Good morning.”

“Gavin.”

“What?”

“Go put some clothes on, are you an animal?”

“Could be.”

“Gavin.”

“ _Connor_.”

“I’m being serious. We’re supposed to be leaving right now.”

“Why? You don’t want to… you know.”

“Shut up. Get dressed. Let’s go.”

“You sure? You won’t stop looking—”

“I’m leaving without you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I am. Right this second—”

“Connor…”

“We’re going to be late.”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Tina is going to come by before work.”

“Ten minutes.”

“We— _Fine_. Ten minutes.”

9:17 A.M.

“Your hair is all messed up.”

“Yeah?” Connor says, running his hands through it like it will solve the problem. “Who’s fault is that?”

“Hey, give me another ten minutes and maybe I can fix it.”

Connor laughs, pushes Gavin away from him a little bit before tugging him back to his side. He feels Gavin’s hand wrap around his waist, his thumb slipped through his belt loop. They make their way down the hallway and to the elevator, the car already packed and ready while Gavin slept in.

“Are you excited?”

He watches Gavin’s warped form in the reflection on the elevator doors. The way he’s looking up at Connor, the way he starts to lean forward and rest his chin against Connor’s shoulder as best as he can.

“Yes,” he says, because he has never been more excited for anything than this, really. He might not even be as excited if he had gone with North or Markus, either. It wouldn’t be the same type of trip. “Are you?”

“Barely,” Gavin whispers, and he leans up and kisses Connor’s jaw.

And he thinks about last night. The way Gavin seemed upset at the idea that he might have hurt Connor even in the smallest of manners. The way he tried to apologize for it, when before he would have done it for fun.

Different.

_Better._

11:21 A.M.

Gavin holds his coffee against his chest like a baby. It’s a big thermos—the biggest one Connor could find and buy for him specifically for this trip. It won’t last the entire time, but it is a comfort to know that he will have this much. Like he can stock up all the coffee in his body within the span of a few hours and it will somehow know to stretch itself out properly.

Still.

Connor gave it to him. There’s a little sticker on the side that looks like Latte, and a small dent from where Gavin dropped it when he was doing the dishes, and _Connor gave it to him._ It has only existed in his life for two weeks and it already has a place here, a shallow history that will grow deeper and deeper.

Fuck. He hopes he doesn’t lose it this weekend.

12:50 P.M.

“You look annoyed.”

Connor sighs, closing the door of the car and slumping back against the seat, “They said we couldn’t check in yet. We’re early. They’re very strict about this.”

“You act like you wouldn’t be very strict in the same position.”

Connor smiles, then forces it away again, “That’s not the point.”

“What’s the point then?”

He’s failing at it this time—trying to control his expression. He’s biting his lip to try and keep from laughing but he points to the clock anyways.

Ten minutes.

Gavin laughs, and he hates it because it’s stupidly loud and it’s not even that funny but he does, and Connor is laughing too, quiet and hidden against his hand. _Stupid. Ridiculous. Absurd._

But ten minutes precisely.

1:43 P.M.

“This was your idea—”

“You’re supposed to be my boyfriend.”

“What, you’re gonna break up with me if I don’t help set up a tent?”

“Yes.”

“…Fuck. Okay. I’ll help.”

“Thank you, love.”

“Of course, _dear.”_

3:13 P.M.

Gavin is stupidly stubborn about some things. He’ll give up on some things in an instant and ask for help, but other times he’s convinced he can do it and refuses any type of assistance.

Connor has learned the difference. He can tell them apart within a second of Gavin choosing a task. When he picks up the matchbox and steps over to the fire pit, Connor breathes in a deep breath and leans back against the log behind him, keeps his commentary to a minimum.

But it is fun to watch how terrible Gavin is at this. It makes his success all the more worth it.

4:02 P.M.

“It’s a shame it’s too cold to go swimming,” Connor says, looking out over the stream. “I would have liked to see how good you were at it.”

“At swimming? You wanted to see my skill level?”

He shrugs, pulls his knees a little closer to his chest. The cold doesn’t bother him but it does make him want to turn in on himself. Condense his body down into something compact and unharmed by it.

“Next year we can go in the summer,” Gavin says, leaning over to move his blanket from around his shoulders to encompass Connor in it. _Warm._ A shelter. A safe place.

He turns into Gavin’s shoulder, burying his face against his neck, the scratchiness of his sweater against his cheek.

_Next year._

There will be a _next year._

Sometimes it’s easy to think they won’t last. It’s too hard to think of the future. Humans aren’t entirely predictable. Connor will never be able to comprehend everything. It’s impossible—almost worse by the fact he has his own emotions. He knows how volatile they are, how it’s terrifying that they can do whatever they want if something sudden happens.

But _next year._

Gavin wants there to be a next year.

5:44 P.M.

“Your dinner any good?”

“Not particularly.”

“I’m sorry. Next time I’ll bribe a pizza delivery man to make the trip up here.”

6:51 P.M.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Is it going to be a real question or a fake one?” Connor asks, adjusting the scarf around Gavin’s neck. The boy gets cold too easily. Always wants to be bundled up in as many layers as possible.

Not that it isn’t cold out here. It’s the middle of October. That doesn’t exactly entail warm weather. And it isn’t as if Connor is complaining. He likes the way Gavin looks when he’s wearing an oversized hoodie or wrapped up in a mountain of blankets.

“Real.”

“Alright. Of course, go ahead.”

“Wait—first, though, if I had said fake, would you have let me ask the question?”

“I am incapable of stopping you from speaking, as much as I sometimes would like to,” Connor says, leaning forward to leave a kiss against his nose. “But, I would have reluctantly allowed it, yes.”

“Good to know,” he replies. “So. My question.”

“Yes?”

“Why… exactly did you want to go camping?”

Connor turns his gaze from Gavin’s face to the ends of his scarf.

“I… know a lot of things. I’m smart. I’m more intelligent than any human and most androids.”

“Brag about it.”

He laughs, but only a little, “It’s just the truth.”

“And you’re a fantastic nerdy boyfriend,” Gavin says. “Anyways. Go on.”

“I’m smart, but I don’t… I never experienced things. I don’t… have my own memories of situations. I never went to high school. I never went to a prom. I don’t have experiences in these areas. I’m essentially thirty years old but you are the first person I kissed and my first boyfriend.”

He is both an empty canvas and a completed picture—painted by a stranger with colors he didn’t get to approve or deny. He is both his own person and belonging completely, entirely, to CyberLife’s programmers.

“This is mine,” he whispers, looking up towards the sky, the trees, then to Gavin. “You are mine. No one else told me how I should feel or what I should think about it. It’s my experience, for the first time.”

“Yours,” Gavin whispers back, and he smiles. “Okay.”

“Can I ask _you_ something?”

“Sure.”

“Will you kiss me now?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

7:29 P.M.

It’s not necessarily a hike. There aren’t mountains or very steep hills. They just traverse the path together with their hands held between them and wandering slowly. Gavin pauses Connor at one point, pulls him to a full stop to survey the scenery.

This is what they’re here for. The trees and the animals and the wind and the sunset. The scent of nature and the feel of the wind and the bitter cold against their skin. He wants to see it. He wants to look at it all with Connor.

Mostly, though, he just wants to see the smile on Connor’s face as he takes it all in.

Beautiful.

Absolutely beautiful.

8:09 P.M.

“Hey, Con? Where are the marshamallows?”

“The—” Connor bites his lip, but the smile fights against his face anyways. “The marshamallows?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t pack them.”

Gavin sighs, “Why not? You have the crackers and the chocolate bars. You forget?”

“I did not forget.”

“Then _why?”_

“Because marshamallows aren’t a thing, Gavin,” he says. “They’re marshmallows.”

“What the fuck did I say?”

“Marshamallows.”

“That’s what they’re called.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. He has to hold a hand up to his mouth to stifle the laugh, to try and force the smile away. “No. They’re marshmallows.”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that.”

“You would and you are,” Gavin crosses his arms, tilting his head to the side. “God. I can’t even be mad at you for this because you’re too cute.”

“Me?” Connor asks. “What about you? Marshamallows?”

“That’s cute to you? It’s just stupidity. I went my whole life calling them marshamallows.”

“It’s adorable. It’s stupidly cute.”

“Stupidly cute?”

“Yes,” Connor says. “You’re stupidly cute.”

8:14 P.M.

Connor slips the marshmallow off the end of the metal skewer. It’s a little burnt, but it’s exactly what Gavin said he wanted it to be cooked like. It’s hot between his fingertips and he blows on it lightly, just enough to cool it off so he doesn’t burn Gavin.

“Having fun?” Gavin asks.

He smiles and nods. He wanted the experience of roasting marshmallows himself, even if he can’t necessarily gain anything from eating them. He wishes he was human. He wishes he was human a lot of times, but at a time like this?

The want and need is too present.

“Here,” Connor says, and he is aware that his voice breaks a little bit, but he covers it up with a small laugh as he presses the marshmallow past Gavin’s lips. He laughs, pulling back a little bit and reaching up to catch it before it falls.

“What’s that for?”

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth. You could choke and die.”

“Right. We wouldn’t want that.”

“No,” Connor agrees, shaking his head. He wonders if he looks as serious as he feels. “We wouldn’t.”

Does Gavin realize this? His own mortality? Androids can live forever. They can change out their biocomponents when they get overused, they can manufacture them themselves, they can create and inject their own blue blood, they can jump their consciousness over to a different body to keep going. Humans are not necessary to the equation of their lives and their lives can go on and on and on until they are ready to stop.

And humans?

What had Daniel said, that day on the rooftop?

_All humans die eventually. What is the difference if this one dies now?_

This is why androids don’t date humans. It’s why there is such a separation between the two. Even the idea of watching them age and die is too hurtful to ever attempt a relationship.

If Gavin understood this, he must understand how much Connor really loves him. That he is ignoring how hurt he will be when Gavin eventually passes.

Best not to think of it, that’s what he’d say. _Best to focus on the good._

He isn’t paying attention when Gavin kisses him. His gaze is focused on the fire and his thoughts are consumed with one tiny joke Gavin made and suddenly he is being kissed and feeling Gavin’s hand on his neck and everything in his head is jumbled up. Normally, he pushes away analyzing Gavin’s saliva but suddenly his brain is whirring with the list of ingredients and the process it takes to create a marshmallow and he is swimming on a sea of fluffy white numbers like clouds and it is—

 _Nice_.

Sometimes he forgets how peaceful it can be to be taken away with the closest thing he has to _taste._

They break apart and he brings up a hand, touching his lips softly like Gavin has never kissed him like that before (and, in truth, he hasn’t).

“What was that for?”

“I don’t know. You just looked like you should be kissed.”

“I think that’s your constant thought process when it comes to me, Gavin.”

“Maybe. Is it wrong?”

Connor smiles, and for the most part his past thoughts have been washed away. Drowned for a little while longer, waiting to resurface to become more of a nuisance at a later time, “Do it again.”

And he does.

10:59 P.M.

Connor points up towards the sky somewhere in the cluster of stars upon stars, “That’s Polaris.”

“Pretty,” Gavin says with a nod, like he can tell which one Connor is pointing to. But he’s telling the truth. It _is_ pretty. The stars are wonderful to look at. Sparkling and happy and thousands of light years away. He doesn’t get to see them very often in the city, especially now that Connor lives with him. He’s too busy looking at Connor to care about what patch of stars he can see from his window if he angles his head just right.

“You have no idea which one it is, do you?”

“No.”

He looks away from the sky to Connor, who smiles briefly before moving to stand behind him. His hand closes around Gavin’s wrist, lifting it up to the sky. His attention is pulled away from where Connor is directing him and instead focused on the way Connor’s hand curls around his waist, pulling him close against his chest.

“Do you see it now?” Connor asks, his voice low and quiet against his ear. “That one there.”

“Y-Yeah,” he mumbles. Connor starts to pull away from him and he reaches up, grasping his right hand it pulling it to his waist. “Maybe I don’t, actually. Maybe you should try and describe it to me. Think of me as blind. Where would it be? What would it look like?”

“Alright,” he feels a soft laugh breathed against the side of his neck. “Close your eyes, then.”

Gavin does, and he only half listens to Connor’s description of the stars above them. The brightness and vastness of every single one that makes up the Little and Big Dippers. It is cold here, a freezing weekend. But Connor is warm and comforting and there are a billions of stars he could describe to make this moment last.

_October 21 th_

1:24 A.M.

Gavin curls up against his side, three blankets pulled up around his shoulders, four pillows on the air mattress despite the fact Gavin will use Connor’s shoulder before any of them. It’s late, and they’ve only just laid down, which Connor knows Gavin will regret in the morning.

It’s fine, though. It’s alright. Androids don’t need sleep. Not to the same extent as a human. A few hours and his insides will be charged up and rested enough that he can pack up their things and get ready to leave. Gavin will be able to sleep in as long as he likes.

For now, though, it is comfortable and nice and Connor leaves his message in slow circles drawn against Gavin’s back.

“Hey,” Gavin whispers suddenly, opening his eyes. “What is that? What do you write?”

“Binary code.”

“And what does it say?”

He breathes in a little unnecessary breath to steady himself. The numbers he traces on Gavin’s shoulder are an endless loop of ones and zeroes over and over again. It has and will always be the same words every time.

“It’s a prayer. For your immortality.”

“My immortality?”

“Yes. I’m hoping we will be able to invent the ability to transfer the human mind into android bodies so I can be with you forever.”

And, he thinks, interface with Gavin. He has always wanted to connect. To think his thoughts, to feel his feelings, to see what he sees. Connor has read too much about other androids and their connections to one another. How deep they can go. Souls colliding.

Not that it’s necessary for him to love Gavin. Not that it is important for the two of them to ever need that.

It is just a nice fantasy.

“You wanna be with me forever?”

“Of course,” he replies, leaving a kiss against the top of his head. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Gavin makes a half laugh sound, but he has gotten better at putting himself down, about hating himself. Connor thinks, maybe, every day they are together, every night he spends in Gavin’s bed or kiss he gives him or cup of coffee he makes, Gavin realizes that redemption is a thing.

Maybe a tricky, messy thing, but nonetheless a possibility.

“Get some sleep. Don’t make me turn into your mother.”

“Alright, alright.”

He gives him a second kiss. A third. A fourth. Just to make sure he knows.

Knows that that numbers on his shoulder aren’t tracing out the binary code for a prayer, but instead just _I love you_ over and over again. He usually gets to six before Gavin falls asleep, and tonight is no different. He finishes the _u_ with a carefully drawn _1._

3:33 A.M.

He leaves the tent when he’s sure Gavin is asleep enough to not notice him leaving. He creeps out slowly, taking careful steps across the ground to avoid the crunching leaves or the strewn about twigs. Past the dead fire, the cooler Gavin insisted on bringing, the logs where they sat with their marshmallows and s’mores.

Connor settles at the edge of the stream, a few yards too far from their camp to look over at the water. Different from the way the river looks in the city with all the bright lights and the sound of cars behind him. Different from the pictures and the movies and the information he’s been given.

This is _his_ view. His first time really just sitting and taking in the way the stars and the moonlight look in the sky above him, the sound of the water as it passes over the rocks, and the fish as they swim along. He knows there would be a lingering scent of smoke in the air, of a burned marshmallow where it sits on the still warm coals. He knows if he listens hard enough he will hear the sounds of deer and owls and other animals as they go about their nocturnal routine. And he knows if he listened even harder, he might hear the sound of Gavin snoring loudly behind him. Faint and quiet from where he is, but probably still audible to an android’s ears.

He has never felt more at peace than in this moment.

He looks up to the stars and smiles and sends a thank-you to Elijah Kamski. Annoying half-brother, cause of so much chaos and pain. But a tiny little sliver of Connor is grateful that androids were made because otherwise, he wouldn’t be here.

He wouldn’t have Gavin, even if it might only be for another sixty-something years, if they’re lucky.

And he hopes that they are lucky.

4:24 A.M.

He wakes up to the empty bed again, and he thinks perhaps it is one of Connor’s worst traits. Always leaving him here by himself. He hates it, but he also hardly even minds it. Of all the things Connor could do that could annoy him, this is the least harmful. It is simply strange falling asleep with his head on Connor’s shoulder and feeling his arms around his body and being able to take advantage of the warmth that an android body produces and then waking up and being alone and cold.

It’s likely why he prefers when Connor wakes him up when he leaves. At least he knows Connor is leaving his side instead of having that one moment of fear not knowing if he dreamt Connor up.

Gavin fumbles for his phone in his pocket, lights up the screen and instantly closes his eyes, flinches away from the light for a second before preparing himself to check the time with one eye open. _Four in the morning._ He should go back to sleep. He’s exhausted enough that if he laid down again he could.

But his first thought is _Connor_ and how much he wants to find him. The small fear in his stomach that something terrible might have happened or that Connor is sitting somewhere crying because this isn’t what he planned.

He turns his phone around, let’s the light help him seek out his shoes jammed in the corner next to his bag and unzips the tent. He isn’t quiet stepping out, and when he spots Connor’s small shadow in the distance, he doesn’t attempt to leave silent footsteps.

Connor would hear him anyways.

“Hey,” he says, louder than he means to and his voice cracking like it always does in the morning. He adjusts, clearing his throat a little as he makes his way over to him. “Are you alright?”

Connor turns, holding a hand up to block the light of the phone aimed at his face like a human would, “I’m alright.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Just… thinking.”

“Good thoughts, right?”

“Yes, Gavin. Good thoughts.”

Gavin sits down beside him, shutting off his screen and pocketing his phone. He looks out over the stream. Dark water, glinting back the bright light of the moon above them. Almost full, not quite. Tomorrow, maybe. He doesn’t know shit about the lunar cycles.

“Con?”

“Hm?”

He leans over, kisses him gently on the cheek. Something fitting for the moment, something that won’t ruin it like it’s made of glass.

“You want to be alone, don’t you?”

It isn’t hard to surmise. Connor doesn’t get much time alone. The entire trip would have been just him staring off into the distance of trees and water and rocks and dirt if Gavin hadn’t come along with. Or, maybe an android would have come with him. He’s close to Simon and North. Gavin always heard of their little group going camping. It’s probably where Connor got the idea from.

Not that he cares. Not that it even matters.

Gavin is terrified of being alone. He spent ten years being alone. Tina is his only friend and even then he’s sure he’s annoying her so much that he refuses to speak to her for days on end because it creeps into the back of his head. When Connor popped up into his life, essentially moved into his apartment (still, some random nights spent at Hank’s because that is where he officially “lives” at), he was happy.

Clingy, even.

A small sliver of guilt for that resides in his heart at all times.

“Gavin, I—”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

And he doesn’t. He doesn’t mind leaving Connor alone at all. He understands personal space and boundaries. He doesn’t feel hurt at the idea that Connor wants a few feet apart or a few hours of silence or just to be on his own, if that’s what he wants.

“Keep the bed warm?”

“Absolutely.”

“And you’ll be sleeping when I come back? Not awake?”

“I’ll be asleep. Promise.”

“And one last kiss, before you go?”

“You don’t need to ask twice.”

Because he loves kissing Connor. Because he loves that Connor is his, that he is Connor’s. That they exist together in tandem. So completely different. So forcefully opposites.

But completely in love, too.

4:51 A.M.

Gavin is not asleep when Connor gets back, and he only half pretends he is.

7:20 A.M.

He waits, because he knows Gavin is pissed off. He waits and he sits by the fire with almost everything packed and ready to go. They have another few hours before they’re going to be forced to officially check out of the campsite, and his plan was for Gavin to sleep until the very last second but they stayed up too late talking and then Gavin wanted to see the sunrise and now Gavin is pissed off.

“The fuck, Connor?”

“I’m sorry—”

“You said you wouldn’t.”

“Well, you lied to me first.”

“So it’s my fault?”

Connor bites his lip, “Yes.”

“The fuck did I lie about?”

“You said you would go to sleep instead of helping me pack and you didn’t,” he replies. “You were awake when I went to bed.”

“W-Well, you got me there,” Gavin reaches a hand up to hide his face as he turns away. “But—”

“But what?”

“Insomnia’s a bitch sometimes. It’s not my fault.”

“I’m aware.”

Gavin still has his hand over his mouth, pressed flat against it to smother the smile that is already in his eyes. Angry, but not really. He hasn’t been the same type of angry since they got together.

Different.

_Better._

“So, you wake up early just to sneak my least favorite pair of jeans into the luggage?”

“Yes.”

“And you call me a dork sometimes. You’re the fucking king of them all.”

Connor tilts his head, looking down at the jeans Gavin wears. He doesn’t understand why Gavin likes them so little. They look very, _very_ nice on him. Maybe a size too small. Maybe most certainly a size too small. Maybe ripped in the knees and the thighs and it isn’t suited for October weather but, well—

Connor’s never had a problem being the thing to keep Gavin warm before.

“Gavin?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He pauses, his hands in the middle of the movement of shoving his phone in his pockets that are too tight and constricted against him to have enough room, “For what?”

_Existing._

“Coming with.”

“Yeah? You don’t regret it?”

“Not a single bit.”

8:12 A.M.

“I have something for you,” Connor says, producing a small metal box and handing it to Gavin. “I didn’t want it to be necessary, but you look exhausted.”

“The fuck is this? Cocaine?”

“It’s caffeine pills. Flavored like coffee. It has the same taste and effects as your normal cup in the morning,” then he seems to pause with a small laugh. “Well. More than a normal cup. Ten times more.”

Gavin eyes the tin suspiciously, the neat label stating nearly word for word what Connor has just told him, “I’ve heard of them. People said they tasted like dirt.”

“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

“You just don’t want me to be cranky all morning.”

Connor smiles at him, but it’s a smile that says _yes, you’ve got that exactly right._

“Try it.”

Anything for Connor, he supposes.

Gavin pops open the tin, pulls out one of the few little pills sitting inside. They look like jelly beans and they smell exactly like coffee. It’s almost comforting, if the smell wasn’t so absolutely overpowering.

He breathes in deeply, prays to a god he has no real belief in, and takes the pill. It isn’t necessarily even a _pill._ He has to chew on it first and it disintegrates on his tongue like a shitty Altoid.

His hand comes up, pressed over his mouth to keep from spitting it back up but the powdery substance on the inside is coating his tongue and _fucking Jesus fucking Christ_ it is a thousand times worse than he was ever told. People fucking undersold the terrible nature of this.

“Does it taste like dirt?” Connor asks, and he sounds so curious and innocent Gavin nearly starts laughing because it’s not like Connor would even understand what dirt tastes like to begin with.

“Worse.”

“Worse?”

“Dirt would be a blessing right now.”

“You want some water?”

_“Please.”_

Connor stands, walking back towards their belongings and finding one of the water bottles still left in the cooler. He hands it to Gavin and he uncaps it quickly, downing it as fast as he can mange.

Terrible.

Awful.

“You alright?”

“Connor, I need to tell you something,” he says, and his voice is weak like someone punched him in the throat and he thinks his eyes might be watering because his vision is slightly blurry and he can feel the caffeine getting ready to kick into his system. “I fucking love you, alright? I know it’s the first time I’ve said it and you’re probably going to laugh about this in like ten minutes that the first time I tell you this is when I’m dying because of a stupid coffee pill thing, but I do. I love you. I need you to know this because when I tell you to never buy me that shit ever again or I’ll kill you, I’m telling you with love.”

“Okay.” Connor kneels down in front of him, lifts his chin up a little so their eyes can meet, “I won’t ever buy it again. I promise.”

“Good.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief like just the promise of never having to try those again is a weight lifted off his shoulders as heavy as the world. Then, his heart starts beating a little faster and his hands start to shake and he can’t tell if it’s because of the caffeine or the fact he told Connor he loved him, because this is the exact same way he felt when he chugged three energy drinks in the span of fifteen minutes as a teenager just to prove something to Elijah.

“Con?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you…”

“Catch that you said you love me? Yes.”

“Okay. Alright. That’s fine—”

“I love you, too, you know.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Stellar.”

“Stellar?”

“Yes.”

Connor reaches forward and places a hand over his heart, offering a very sympathetic and sad smile, “These should not be fit for human consumption. I’m terribly sorry, Gavin. I should’ve checked first.”

Gavin lets out a small laugh, and he feels like he might be a little bit high. _What the fuck are in those things?_ Or maybe he’s just excited because Connor said it back to him.

God.

He’s hyper. He knows it and he can’t stop it and it’s been years since he’s been this full of energy. When he used to get sleep deprived and fill himself up on soda and candy and laugh with his friends in school instead of now, getting tired and tired and more tired.

“I love you,” he says again.

“I know. Here,” Connor says, grabbing the water and handing it to him again, pressing his fingers closed around the bottle. “Drink some. It’ll help.”

“You’re amused by this.”

“Sort of. I didn’t know this would happen.”

“Thought you were super intelligent.”

“There are limits to my knowledge.”

He laughs again, “Glad I could help fill some of the gaps.”

“Me too.”

9:50 A.M.

Gavin lays flat on the log by the fire as best as he can while Connor disassembles their tent one piece at a time. The blankets and pillows and then the air mattress and then the tent itself. It’s not that Gavin doesn’t want to help—it’s more so that he is a bit useless right now. He can’t focus on anything. He thinks this might be the closest to high he’ll ever get. He’s lacking in self control but not in the ability to remember everything he’s doing right now.

He’s already getting embarrassed for something he did ten minutes ago.

“Con?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I’m a useless idiot.”

He hears Connor sigh. The sigh that usually preludes him telling Gavin he isn’t whatever he is calling himself, but the argument dies before it even starts and Gavin bites his lip, looking back up to the clouds.

He wants to stay here.

If Latte was with them, if Tina could come visit in the middle of the woods, if Connor’s friends would make the trek, he would stay here forever.

Fuck the DPD. Fuck the city and its obligations. They can live off the land.

“Hey, Connor—”

“Gavin, I love you, too.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“Fine. Continue on, then.”

“Gavin smiles and closes his eyes, “Let’s come back here again. Whatever the next weekend we have off from work is.”

“That’s Thanksgiving.”

“Well, fuck the pilgrims and let’s come here.”

“You’ll freeze.”

“Nah,” he says, opening his eyes and turning, slipping off the log a little bit and hitting his knee against the ground. He lets out a little huff, eyeing the log as if it’s betrayed him. He must look like a maniac right now. “I’ve got you. My portable heater, yeah?”

“I suppose so.”

He’s more than that, though, but Gavin thinks he might not be high enough to be able to divulge those types of details. To explain fully how much Connor means to him. Instead, he settles on just telling him he loves him for the tenth time.

11:18 A.M.

Gavin watches the trees pass by as they thin out and they start their way back to the city. The caffeine in his system has started to fade away and it leaves him tired, his head resting against the window. He is happy they’re on their way home, but he already misses camping. He misses just sitting outside with Connor and watching the stars or listening to the fire crackle. It wasn’t enough. There is still so much more that he wants from this.

_Next time._

Next time will be different.

Next time will be better.

He won’t bother pretending that he doesn’t want to go. He’ll let Connor know how excited he really is. He can’t even stop smiling at the prospect of coming back.

Of course he’s glad to come home and see Latte. He misses her. He didn’t realize how used to her presence he was until he was out here and she wasn’t running around his feet or knocking things over or trying to chew through the plastic bag of the marshamallows.

 _Marshmallows,_ he corrects himself.

And then he smiles again and he can’t get rid of it even when his eyes close and he falls asleep to the sound of the road underneath them and the faint noise of the radio playing a quiet song.

12:58 P.M.

He doesn’t look forward to having to wake Gavin up—he never does—so Connor is almost grateful that when the car comes to a stop and the engine shuts off the lack of noise and movement seems to do the job for him.

“Home?” Gavin says, his voice coming out quiet and tired.

“Home.”

1:13 P.M.

Connor sets the last bag down by the front door, closing it behind him as he looks out over to Gavin. He has Latte in his arms, curled tight against his chest with his face buried in her fur muttering about how much he missed her and loves her.

He still looks exhausted, but it is a different exhaustion. Not the weariness of a days work resting on his mind and weighing him down.

He looks so tremendously happy it makes Connor’s nonexistent heart melt again.

1:27 P.M.

He leaves Connor to unpack the bags and heads to the shower. He feels like there is a layer of grime he needs to scrub off his skin and he’s been itching to do it since they’ve left the campsite. As much as he wants the smell of the outdoors to linger around a little longer to remind him of the nice night, he doesn’t look forward to the smell of sweat or dirt smudged against his skin staying with him either.

Gavin tilts his head up to the warm water, closes his eyes as it washes over his skin. It gets rid of the coldness still embedded in him. Washes away the freezing cold night and reminds him of the warmth of the fire.

Is he going to equate everything to these memories now? A bad taste in his mouth like the coffee pills. The warmness of the tent when Connor was beside him. The stickiness of a marshmallow on his fingertips.

Who cares?

It was an incredible trip.

1:41 P.M.

He doesn’t try to be quiet when he comes into the bathroom. He doesn’t ever try to be quiet. He just always is. It’s a natural part of being an android designed to hunt people down and search through crime scenes. He is light on his feet. His steps always take the route that would be least disruptive of evidence.

And, the shower drowns out what little noise he does make.

“Gavin?” he says, his voice gentle in an effort not to scare him, but he hears the quick intake of breath through the curtain dividing them. “I’m going to order some food since you haven’t eaten lunch yet. What would you like?”

“Pizza.”

“Okay.” _Of course he does._

“Hey,” the curtain opens and Gavin peers out at him. “Come here for a second.”

“In the shower?”

“No—Well, only if you want.”

Connor lets out a small sigh, but he takes the step closer to Gavin. Not in the shower. Not over the barrier of the tub. If Gavin pressed, if he kissed Connor a certain way right now, he would climb into the shower with him. He’d be annoyed at the feeling of water on his clothes but it wouldn’t really matter to him when they were pulled from his body.

But Gavin doesn’t pull him into the shower. He doesn’t kiss him that certain way.

He does kiss him.

But it is small and quick with a smile on his lips.

“I did mean it.”

“Mean what?” Connor asks, pulling away a little. The water is hitting him, leaving little drops on his shirt.

“I do love you. And I do want to go back.”

“I’m glad,” he says, and he is. He is enormously overjoyed that Gavin had fun, that he liked going. “And you will.”

“Yeah?”

“Not during winter.”

“No, of course not.”

“But again.”

“Again,” Gavin agrees.

And then he kisses him once more and pulls Connor just a little bit closer to the stream of water above him and it’s good and it’s nice but he has to break the kiss because Gavin asked for pizza and there is plenty of time in the day left to do this somewhere better than a _shower_.

“Thank you,” Gavin says. “For inviting me.”

“Thank you,” Connor replies. “For coming.”

Gavin gives him another smile, even though the last one had barely left his face and Connor has to extricate himself from his grip even though he can barely stop smiling himself.

 _Love._ He is stupidly in love with him. He is stupidly grateful for some terrible things for making the two of them who they are so they could end up together.

He leaves the bathroom with his shirt half soaked and his hair in a mess and a smile still lingering on his face. He hopes it will stay there forever.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://norchloe.tumblr.com/) | writing/editing music;  
> Brighter Side - WILD  
> Chateau - Angus & Julia Stone (acoustic)


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